Dear future me,

Is it still raining in September?

Today is the 14th of September. It was raining again, a heavy storm with thunder. I sat on the bedroom floor at my house, watching the mango tree branches sway in the wind. The tall glass window leaked a little, as it always does, and the laminated floor was already lifting at the edge - nothing new. It's been a while and I didn't feel the need to fix it.

No one was walking outside on the road. It was calm and peaceful, just me and the sound of rain. Pure solitude. Like nobody could reach my territory, my safe place.

There's comfort in letting something stay broken. Not because I have already given up but because I'm learning to live with the cracks and let go of the urge to fight all the time.

What does it mean to live with things you cannot fix?

The roof, the leaking windows, dying plants, your parents, your siblings, people at work? My 'house' is not near perfect, yet its roof sheltered me from the storm and this moment is a bliss.